Mutually Beneficial
by J Morningstar
Summary: Short and sweet. A little neuropressure scene from T'Pol's point of view before any clones went spilling their guts or MACOs put the moves on our favourite blonde Engineer ...


"Please lie face down," she instructed as they moved into the next Posture, and he complied.

T'Pol hadn't been entirely convinced of the wisdom of instructing Commander Tucker in Vulcan Neuropressure when they began these sessions several weeks ago. Doctor Phlox had been insistent, and of course he was correct that a well-rested Chief Engineer was critical to the safety and success of their crew and mission. He had also postulated that it could prove beneficial in staving off Pa'Nar symptoms as part of her strict regimen of nutrition, exercise, meditation and rest.

As she knelt with her legs astride his hamstrings, she reflected that Mr. Tucker acted as something of a morale officer on board as well. She didn't always understand humans and their emotional complexities, but it was clear that the ready smile and encouraging words of the gregarious engineer had a profound effect on the crew. He had certainly helped facilitate their perception of her as part of the group rather than an outsider or spy. She was grateful for his efforts at including her, even if human ideas of socialising were often juvenile and strange.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she heard him give a soft sigh.

"Maintain your breathing," she reminded him. She felt a chuckle rumble through his body. "Yes, ma'am!" he quipped, and his breathing steadied.

After their undeniably contentious start, she had found the man to be surprisingly agreeable company. They still frequently (and occasionally loudly) disagreed, but there was a solid professional respect on both sides. They often discussed the films shown on movie night or any number of technical problems over meals and late-night cups of tea. She would never admit it, but she derived a certain illogical pleasure from their banter, particularly when she rendered him speechless or elicited his joyous laughter. Once recently she had managed both in quick succession when she remarked upon the Captain's strange preference for sharing his bed with a canine.

Still, she had been surprised to discover how differently he behaved in the quiet privacy of her quarters. In contrast to his boisterous persona outside he was almost shy when they were alone. When they engaged in conversation he was quiet, warm, and curious without being intrusive, a balance few humans managed with regard to Vulcan sensibilities. She appreciated his insights and anecdotes.

T'Pol controlled her own breathing and leaned down to continue deftly manipulating the nodes along the Commander's spine.

The Commander. That's how she typically thought of him. He had been encouraging her to call him by his nickname ("Trip. I'm called Trip.") since she the day she was assigned to _Enterprise_, but she had dismissed it as being overly familiar. Tonight, when he arrived for neuropressure, he had appealed to logic by pointing out a casual form of address would facilitate relaxation far better than being referred to as Mr. Tucker or Commander off-duty and pointed out that formal names were a little incongruous when one was dressed in pyjamas. And among friends. He had muttered the last part softly enough that she surmised he hadn't intended it to be heard. Although he had referred to Vulcan ears as "cute" a number of times, he still seemed to forget their acuity. She acknowledged - silently, to herself - that he had a point. She released the final node and sat back on her heels.

Well, he was certainly relaxed now. Sometime in the last few minutes he had fallen asleep. He lay prone with his head turned to the left, his breathing slow and even. She looked down as the candlelight softly illuminated his peaceful countenance with a golden gleam and briefly considered just placing a blanket over him and retiring for the night.

"Commander?" she said gently.

He did not stir.

Very well... "Trip?" she tried.

"G'night. Love you," he mumbled.

T'Pol blinked. That was unexpected.

He must be dreaming already, she reasoned.

"Trip," she spoke a little more firmly.

"Mmmm?" His eyelids flickered but remained closed.

Gently grasping his shoulder, she tried again, "Trip!"

His eyes blinked open, "... 'Pol?"

Finally.

"You fell asleep during the final Posture. You should return to your quarters to sleep properly now."

"Sorry", he said with a sheepish smile as he sat up. "Was I snoring?"

"No, your breathing was quiet," she said, gracefully getting to her feet and offering him a hand up.

"Well, good. G'night, T'...huh. Deja vu." He said with a shake of his head.

She quirked one eyebrow slightly, "I am not familiar with that term."

"It's the feeling you've experienced something before... just as I was drifting off there, I thought I'd already said goodnight and-and uh, gone to bed, but obviously I'm still here." He looked pensive for a moment and rubbed the back of his head. "Anyway, thanks again for everything. This neuropressure's like magic! I can't remember the last time I felt this relaxed."

T'Pol met his eyes, "I am pleased it is proving beneficial to you."

"It is. Your cushions are real comfy, too." He smirked, "Company's not half bad either. Good night, T'Pol."

She tilted her head, "Good night, Trip."

With a soft smile, he stepped past her into the corridor.

As she watched him leave the room, she realized she felt remarkably ... content.

Apparently, the neuropressure was proving just as beneficial to her.


End file.
